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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27020701">Overheating</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PechoraFlow/pseuds/Kale-y'>Kale-y (PechoraFlow)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Promptober 2020 [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adorable Connor, But also, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Crack Treated Seriously, CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human) is Terrible, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson &amp; Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank Anderson Swears, Hank barely knows how to turn on his phone, Hope y'all like it!!, Serious Injuries, Sickfic, Zen Garden (Detroit: Become Human), all my homies hate CyberLife, all my love to the Discord, he has no idea how to take care of a sick android, he's sure gonna try tho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:22:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27020701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PechoraFlow/pseuds/Kale-y</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Connor wakes with a fever, Hank takes it upon himself to try and take care of a sick android.</p><p>Of course, he has no idea how to do that, and Connor is no ordinary android. Is there something more serious going on?</p><p>---</p><p>Prompt: Garden</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson &amp; Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Promptober 2020 [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>220</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Overheating</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hereby dedicate this one shot to my currently overheating laptop.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ever since Connor had moved into Hank’s small house, life had been different. Hank started getting up earlier, making it to work on time, and eating more home cooked meals (which Connor insisted that he be allowed to cook - something about wanting to develop non-work-related skills).</p><p>One can imagine his surprise when he woke up a little past 7 AM and left his room to find Connor still asleep on the couch.</p><p>Er...in “stasis". Whatever.</p><p>Hank crouched next to the sofa, gently shaking Connor’s shoulder. “Connor?”</p><p>The LED on Connor's head spun yellow with sections of red, but he didn’t wake.</p><p>Trying again, Hank shook Connor’s shoulder. “Con’, you’re gonna be late.”</p><p>Ah yes, the magic words. Connor’s eyes fluttered open, though they remained somewhat drooped. "Hank?”</p><p>“Good mornin’, slacker,” Hank teased. “What, your alarm clock run out of battery or somethin’?”</p><p>Connor blinked slowly, visibly processing what Hank had said.</p><p>Hank frowned. “You okay?”</p><p>“I don’t…” Connor said, slurring his words and trailing off.</p><p>Okay...definitely weird. Hank gently went to move Connor’s head to the side so he could get a better look at his LED, but as soon as his fingers touched Connor’s cheek, he aborted the movement, quickly drawing his hand back. “What-?” Hank put the back of his hand against Connor’s forehead.</p><p>Connor just blinked at him.</p><p>After a minute, confirming that he hadn’t just gone crazy, Hank squinted at Connor. “Can deviants <em>get </em>fevers?"</p><p>“Of course not,” Connor replied calmly.</p><p>“Then why the fuck is your skin warm?” Hank demanded, moving his hand back to Connor’s cheek. Yep - definitely warmer than usual. “Your heater malfunctioning?”</p><p>It took Connor a minute to gather his thoughts. “I believe it is possible that I uploaded something incorrectly during my last software update,” Connor mused, words still slow and slurred. “My processor must be working harder than usual to locate the error and correct it. Hence the ‘fever’.” Connor made lazy air quotes with his fingers, then let his hands fall limp.</p><p>“Alright, well you're not going into work,” Hank said. “And that’s final.”</p><p>Connor shook his head. “I’ll be fine, I just...just need a few more minutes…”</p><p>“Nope. Sick day. Take it. That's an order,” Hank said, leaving no room for argument.</p><p>To Hank’s surprise, Connor gave up, head sinking back into the pillow Hank had given him however many weeks ago when Connor first moved in. “I’ll call it in.”</p><p>“You sure it won’t just...make your processor heat up that much more?” Hank asked, skeptical.</p><p>Connor frowned, but gave in again. “I suppose that would be a possibility, yes. If my central processing unit does not find the virus in time, the biocomponents in my head could feasibly melt from the strain-”</p><p>“Back the fuck up,” Hank said. Whatever drowsiness he was still feeling was banished, leaving him wide awake. <em>“Melt your head? </em>Did I hear that right?”</p><p>“That is a less eloquent way of putting it, but-”</p><p>“That’s it,” Hank interrupted. “Go the fuck to sleep, and don’t do anything strenuous until you’re feeling better. Do you need anything? Water? An ice pack?”</p><p>“Thirium,” Connor answered. “The heat from my biocomponents is causing it to evaporate faster than usual.”</p><p>Hank nodded and immediately went into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a sealed bag of blue blood. He also grabbed a mug with dogs painted on it <strike>(Cole's favorite)</strike>. Returning to the living room and sitting on the edge of the coffee table, he unscrewed the small plastic lid and poured the Thirium into the mug, then offered it to Connor, who moved to sit up a little and took it gratefully with both hands. “Thanks, Hank.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Hank said, brushing off the thanks. "You can sleep in my room, if you want. Or stay out here, whichever.”</p><p>“That’s alright,” Connor said, a soft smile on his face. “I know you like your privacy. Besides, I will likely be in stasis for only a few hours. I should be awake by the time you return home.”</p><p>Hank stood. “‘Kay then. If you’re all set, I’m going to get ready for work and head out. I’ll try to be back early, okay? Don’t want you setting the house on fire while I’m gone.”</p><p>Connor nodded, drinking the last of the Thirium and putting the mug aside. “Please tell Fowler I apologize.”</p><p>“For being sick?” Hank scoffed. “Jeffrey can fuck off, if he holds that against you.” Hank took Connor’s mug, intending to take it back into the kitchen, but he stopped and put a hand against Connor’s forehead again.</p><p>Yep, still warm.</p><p>Connor smiled gently and let Hank mother him. “I’ll be alright."</p><p>Embarrassed, Hank pulled back his hand and started moving back into the kitchen, preparing to leave for work. “I know. You can take care of yourself. And you better - no unnecessary trips out or nothing. You just sleep this off. I’ll grab some more Thirium while I’m out.”</p><p>“Thank you, Hank,” Connor called from his place on the couch.</p><p>“Go the fuck to <em>sleep,</em>” Hank ordered.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Plastic grocery bag in hand, Hank shut the front door behind him. Sumo wound around Hank’s legs, excitedly sniffing at the bag and threatening to trip his owner. “Yeah, yeah, I see you, you lazy mutt. Get back.”</p><p>Sumo backed up enough to allow Hank to move past and into the kitchen. Setting the bag on the table, he looked back into the living room, expecting to see Connor awake and on the couch, LED back to blue. Instead, the deviant was still sprawled on the couch, one arm dangling off the edge and the other laying across his face.</p><p>Deciding against going over to wake Connor, Hank took the bags of Thirium out of the bag and put them in the fridge.</p><p>Sumo sat by his bowl. Hank pet Sumo between the ears, but didn’t move to feed him. “It’s not your dinner time yet. I’m just early. You’re confused,” Hank said in a quiet voice.</p><p>Sumo gazed at him with wide, bovine eyes, wagging his tail.</p><p>“Later,” Hank insisted, walking into the living room. Sumo stopped wagging his tail.</p><p>Figuring that Connor had slept long enough, Hank moved to wake him, but he stopped before he touched him.</p><p>Connor was <em>radiating </em>heat.</p><p>His hand hovered a few inches from Connor’s skin, and yet there seemed to be an invisible cloud of warmth around the deviant’s body.</p><p>Snapping out of it, Hank grabbed Connor’s arm, moving it off of his face and exposing his LED, which was spinning a bright scarlet. Hank could feel his heart rate double. “Connor. Connor, wake up.”</p><p>Connor’s eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t fully wake.</p><p>Hank gently patted Connor’s face a few times. “C’mon, son. You’ve gotta wake up so you can tell me what to do. Connor.”</p><p>Still, Connor would not wake up. Hank didn’t want to have to resort to this, but...desperate times, desperate measures.</p><p>He slapped Connor across the face. Connor jerked awake, red LED flashing. His gaze traveled wildly, recognizing nothing.</p><p>Hank waved a hand in front of Connor’s eyes, drawing his attention. "Connor. Look at me. You know where you are?”</p><p>“I…I’m…” Connor struggled, eyes still moving around the room.</p><p>Shit. This wasn't good. Hank put a hand on Connor’s face. The heat from his skin was so intense, it stung Hank’s hands, but he kept a gentle hold on Connor’s face to hold his attention. "Tell me your name.”</p><p>“My...my name is Connor,” Connor said, eyes finally focusing on Hank.</p><p>Hank nodded. “Yep, and where are you?”</p><p>Connor’s gaze flicked around the room before returning to Hank. “I’m…I’m...I'm at home…”</p><p>Hank’s heart warmed at that. “Yeah. You with me?”</p><p>Connor closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then nodded against Hank’s palms. “Yes. Sorry, I was… Sorry.”</p><p>“S’alright, kid,” Hank said, moving a palm to Connor's forehead. “Can you tell me your temperature?”</p><p>“Yes… One hundred and five degrees.”</p><p>“Holy sh-”</p><p>“Celsius.”</p><p>“<em>Shit,”</em> Hank hissed. He yanked the blanket off of Connor. “Why the hell are you still wearing sweats?”</p><p>Connor blinked. “I-”</p><p>“Forget it,” Hank said, grabbing Connor’s arm and pulling him to a sitting position.</p><p>“Wait,” Connor said, wobbling unstably. “I just… Wait one moment.”</p><p>"Can you stand up?” Hank asked, holding Connor steady.</p><p>“I...believe so,” Connor answered. He carefully pushed himself off of the couch, tipping over and leaning heavily on Hank. “My processor is taking a lot of my available energy. I shutdown all nonessential processes - since I was just laying down, I shut down my gyroscopic biocomponents-”</p><p>“Alright, alright, just…” Hank slung Connor’s arm over his shoulders and put another arm around Connor’s waist for balance. “Can you still walk, at least?”</p><p>Connor paused, calculating. “...Yes. Slowly.”</p><p>“Okay, we'll go slow,” Hank agreed.</p><p>With each step Hank took towards the bathroom, Connor took three shuffling ones, making progress hard-won, but eventually, they made it. Hank eased Connor down onto the edge of the bathtub, then turned on the faucet, beginning to fill the tub with cold water.</p><p>Hank put a hand against Connor’s forehead again, finding it just as warm as it had been back in the living room - he didn’t know why he kept expecting something to change. The deviant leaned into the touch. “Your hands are cold,” Connor hummed.</p><p>Hank brushed Connor’s hair back. Then, he withdrew his hand and pulled out his phone, handing it over to Connor. “Call Markus for me.”</p><p>Connor frowned. “Why?”</p><p>“Because I don’t know how to keep your brain from fuckin’ <em>melting</em>,” Hank snapped. “Now take the damn phone and call Markus. Or somebody who knows about this shit.”</p><p>Connor dutifully took the phone, then tapped in a number and handed it back to Hank.</p><p>Hank put it up to his ear. It rang for a brief second before a voice answered. <em>“Hello</em>?”</p><p>“Yeah, hi,” Hank said, distracted. Satisfied, he took his hand out of the cool water. “This Markus?”</p><p>
  <em>“Yes. To whom am I speaking?”</em>
</p><p>“Lieutenant Anderson,” Hank said. He put his hand against Connor’s forehead once again. The deviant closed his eyes in relief - the cold water from Hank’s hand was at least a smart idea, then. “I’m calling about Connor.”</p><p>
  <em>“I’m afraid I haven’t seen him today, Lieutenant, but I’ll-”</em>
</p><p>“No, he’s right here,” Hank interrupted. “He’s sick.”</p><p>A brief pause on the other side of the phone. Then, <em>“Androids don’t get sick, Lieutenant.”</em></p><p>“No shit,” Hank said, exasperated. He stood and motioned for Connor to stay put, then left the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen. “I was hoping you or somebody at Jericho could tell me why his temperature is over a hundred degrees.”</p><p>"Celsius," Connor chirped from the bathroom.</p><p>"Celsius," Hank added.</p><p><em>“What?” </em>Markus sounded horrified.</p><p>“Not exactly instilling confidence, here,” Hank grumbled.</p><p><em>“I will be right over,” </em>Markus promised. <em>“What have you done so far?"</em></p><p>“Well, he’s been keeping up his Thirium levels,” Hank said, opening the fridge to grab another pack of blue blood, then started to return to the bathroom. "And I’m running him a cold bath right now- <em>Connor!”</em></p><p>Connor innocently looked over at him from the tub. He had climbed in while Hank was gone, still wearing his sweatpants and sweatshirt - both of which were now soaked through with cold water.</p><p><em>“What's going on?” </em>Markus demanded. “<em>What’s happening?”</em></p><p>“Nothing, Connor’s just...out of it,” Hank grunted. He watched as Connor put his head directly under the faucet. “When are you getting here?”</p><p><em>"Twenty minutes,”</em> Markus said. <em>"How long has he been overheating?”</em></p><p>“Uh...I dunno,” Hank said, frowning. “Since this morning. Hold on.” Hank took the phone away from his face and put a hand on Connor’s shoulder, pushing him out from underneath the faucet. “Connor.” Connor sat back and blinked at him, water running down his face. Hank grimaced. “What time did your temperature start rising?”</p><p>“Approximately four twenty-one AM,” Connor responded. The water on his chassis was already <em>steaming</em>, evaporating off of him in clouds of misty white.</p><p>Worried, Hank dipped a finger into the bathtub, then quickly yanked a hand back with a curse. Already, the water had changed temperature, going from “reasonably cold”, completely skipping over “luke warm”, and jumping right up to "fucking lava".</p><p>
  <em>“What happened?”</em>
</p><p>“Water’s hot already,” Hank grumbled, turning off the faucet. Connor’s face fell slightly in disappointment.</p><p>Hank grabbed Connor’s arm, guiding him up and out of the tub. “Alright, c’mon. We’re going outside.”</p><p>Connor blinked. "In February?”</p><p>“If sitting in the snow won’t cool you off, then at least we can melt the ice on the driveway,” Hank said, leading Connor out of the bathroom. He still dripped water, tracking it through the house as Hank helped him hobble out the front door.</p><p>Hank shut the door behind him, nudging Sumo back with his knee to make sure the dog stayed inside. Connor sat down just by the front steps, then tipped over into the snow.</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Hank pulled Connor to an upright position. Connor groaned in protest. “I know, I know,” Hank said quietly. He grabbed a handful of snow from a nearby bush and plastered it against Connor’s forehead. To his relief, the deviant closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.</p><p>The next twenty minutes were spent just like that: Connor, sitting in the snow in sopping wet sweats, while Hank applied and reapplied snow to Connor’s chassis to keep him cool. For the most part, Connor simply sat still, heated breaths actually causing the air to fog up with every exhale (which was weirder than Hank thought it would be, considering the fact that Connor didn’t usually need to breathe that often in the winter and, when he did, his breaths were just as cold as the air around him).</p><p>Finally, a taxi pulled up to the house and out ran Markus, hurrying over to the pair of them quickly. “How is he?”</p><p>"Connor?” Hank asked, turning to the feverish deviant.</p><p>Connor hummed to signal he had heard him, keeping his eyes closed.</p><p>“What’s your temperature?”</p><p>“Approximately one hundred degrees Celsius,” Connor answered, words slurring worse than before.</p><p>Markus looked troubled. Hank, on the other hand, just felt a taste of relief - Connor’s temperature was nowhere near low enough, but it was an improvement. "Lower than it was when I called you," Hank said. “About five degrees lower."</p><p>"Celsius," Connor reminded.</p><p>Hank shot a glare at him, even though the deviant's eyes were still closed. "Say the word 'Celsius' <em>one more fucking time."</em></p><p>“He should have been able to locate the error by now,” Markus said, not put at ease by Hank’s report. “Overheating is generally more common in older models. Connor’s the most advanced of all of us - his software shouldn’t have made an error in the first place - and if he had, he should have been able to isolate it and correct it in seconds, <em>maybe </em>minutes. Something’s wrong.”</p><p>“No shit, Sherlock,” Hank muttered.</p><p>Markus ignored Hank’s jab and stretched out his hand, synthetic skin peeling away to expose the pearly white plastic of his chassis. He cupped his palm around the side of Connor’s neck, initiating an interface and causing the points of contact to first retract the synthetic skin, then glow pale blue.</p><p>Hank watched quietly, not sure of whether or not talking would jolt Markus out of what he was doing or not but not wanting to risk it. He just kept reapplying snow to Connor’s forehead, doing his part to try and keep him cool.</p><p>After a few minutes, Markus withdrew his hand, brow furrowed. “Did Connor tell you about any specialized software? The Garden program, specifically?”</p><p>“No,” Hank said, squinting. Ever since the revolution, Connor didn’t usually like to talk about his features - Hank suspected it had something to do with how talking about the way you were manufactured would just link you that much more to CyberLife, which, coincidentally, Connor <em>still </em>wouldn’t talk about. “Why?”</p><p>“It’s invading his other software, getting into places it shouldn’t be and causing everything to go into overdrive," Markus said, face still troubled. “We should move him back inside. I’ve helped it somewhat, but it will take some time to go through everything.”</p><p>“So you’re...what, helping him fight off the virus?” Hank clarified.</p><p>Markus shrugged. “More or less.”</p><p>“Alright, let’s get him inside, then,” Hank said, standing up and ignoring the way his muscles protested. He could deal with it.</p><p>Though, a heat pack later didn't sound too bad.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Between the two of them, they managed to shuffle Connor back into the house, then guided him back to the couch. As soon as Connor was situated, Markus took Connor’s hand and restarted the interface, filling the dim living room with gentle blue light.</p><p>Hank left them to it, going into the kitchen to grab some food for himself and feed Sumo while he was in there. Usually, Connor liked to feed the dog. He’d been using the mealtime as incentive to try and teach Sumo new tricks (with varying degrees of success - well, varying degrees of <em>almost </em>success).</p><p>“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, Connor,” Hank had said.</p><p>Connor had grinned at him and raised an eyebrow. “I taught you to take better care of yourself, didn’t I?”</p><p>Affronted, Hank had protested, “I’m fifty-seven!”</p><p>Looking back into the living room, Hank couldn’t help but miss Connor’s chatter, commenting on whatever show or documentary was on the TV, or mentioning a new dish he wanted to try to make… It had only been a day, but it had been off-putting, nevertheless.</p><p>With Markus still helping Connor with his programming, splitting the processing power between them, Hank decided to take Sumo for a quick walk around the block, figuring the two of them would still be at it by the time he got back.</p><p>To his surprise, he had just turned back down his driveway, Sumo panting at his side, when the front door opened and Markus exited the house. “Oh, hello, Lieutenant.”</p><p>“You all done?” Hank asked.</p><p>Markus nodded. “There is good news and bad news. Bad news first?”</p><p>Hank crossed his arms, an uncomfortable tingling anxiety taking root in his chest. “Just tell me.”</p><p>“I told you the Garden program was what was...infecting everything, right?” Markus started. Hank nodded in response. “Whatever it is, it has been in Connor’s software since he first came online. I saw evidence of several strong firewalls that he had put up himself recently, but the program somehow must have broken through.”</p><p>“So, CyberLife did this to him?” Hank asked, not quite following.</p><p>Markus frowned in thought. “It’s… CyberLife left a bomb in Connor’s software, and he managed to add time to the clock but not stop it.”</p><p>“But you fixed it, right?” Hank rushed. “His brain’s not gonna melt or nothin’, right?”</p><p>“It’s gone,” Markus assured. "It was added on after his initial test. It was just a matter of identifying and deleting the correct code.”</p><p>“So that’s it? He’s going to be okay?”</p><p>Markus smiled kindly at him. “I believe so. I’ve never seen that program before in other models. If his CPU overheats again, let me know. Otherwise, just make sure he sleeps it off, and he'll be good to go.”</p><p>Markus started to move towards the road, where a taxi had pulled to a stop and was waiting for him to climb in, but Hank called out to him. “Markus?”</p><p>The deviant leader stopped and turned around, an open and honest expression on his face. </p><p>“Thanks,” Hank said. “You’re probably the busiest guy in Detroit right now. Means a lot that you would take the time to come over and help a friend. If you ever need to get away from everything, you’re always welcome. ‘Kay?”</p><p>A warm grin stretched across Markus’s face. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Take care.”</p><p>And with that, Markus ducked into the taxi.</p><p>“C’mon, Sumo,” Hank called, moving back towards the house. Sumo followed along dutifully, but as soon as the front door was open, he darted inside, yanking the leash out of Hank’s hand.</p><p>Hank let him go, muttering a <em>“dumb dog</em>” that was heard by no one. He took off his coat and hung it up, then kicked off his boots and went further into the living room.</p><p>Connor wasn’t on the couch.</p><p>Pushing aside the initial jolt of panic, Hank moved deeper into the house. “Connor?”</p><p>To his relief, Connor poked his head out of the bathroom, washcloth in hand. “Yes?”</p><p>Hank narrowed his eyes. “Mind telling me why you’re not asleep?”</p><p>“In stasis,” Connor corrected. He seemed to be much more with-it than he was before.</p><p>Hank raised an eyebrow. “Why are you up?”</p><p>"I was just-”</p><p>“Trick question, no good answer,” Hank interrupted. He took the washcloth from Connor, then paused, spotting a drop of water on Connor's temple. Quickly, he dabbed the washcloth on Connor’s temple.</p><p>“Alright, bed,” Hank ordered, leaving no room for argument. Connor gave Hank an amused smile, but let him lead him back to Hank’s room.</p><p>Hank gently pushed Connor down onto Hank’s unmade bed, then grabbed the covers and pulled them over Connor’s form.</p><p>
  <strike>He couldn’t help but remember tucking Cole into that race car bed that he loved, pulling the covers up to the kid’s shoulders and pinning the excess beneath the mattress.</strike>
</p><p>Hank brushed Connor’s hair off of his forehead, relieved to find his temperature really was going down.</p><p>Connor smiled reassuringly. “I’m okay. I just need my systems to recover. I will likely be able to go into work tomorrow.”</p><p>“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Hank reminded.</p><p>“…Oh."</p><p>“If I leave the room, will you get up?” Hank asked, eying his deviant friend suspiciously.</p><p>Connor remained suspiciously silent, and Hank huffed a sigh.</p><p>“I’ve been in stasis all day,” Connor rushed to explain. “I just want to get up and move around-”</p><p>“Move over,” Hank said.</p><p>Connor frowned. “But-”</p><p>“Markus said you need to be in stasis, and if you’re going to get up as soon as I leave, then I guess I’m not leaving,” Hank said. Connor didn’t argue - he just moved to the other side of the bed, making room for Hank to lay next to him.</p><p>The <em>second </em>Hank laid down, Sumo leapt up onto the bed, pouncing and landing all one hundred and seventy pounds of dog on Hank’s stomach.</p><p>“Sumo!” Connor admonished. “No! Sumo, <em>down</em>, get- <em>Sumo, get down-”</em> The dog promptly laid down, effectively pinning Hank and Connor under his weight.</p><p>Grumbling curses, Hank shifted, trying to move the massive St. Bernard off of him, but his efforts were futile. He gave up, laying back down on the mattress. Fine - he could sleep in jeans and his button-up collared shirt. That didn’t sound uncomfortable <em>at all</em>.</p><p>Hank glanced over at Connor to see how he was faring and found the deviant grinning.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you actually like him after this,” Hank said.</p><p>Connor’s smile grew larger. “I like dogs,” he said helplessly.</p><p>“You don’t still have a fever, do you?" Hank joked, reaching over to check Connor’s temperature again.</p><p>Connor grabbed his hand and held it, keeping Hank from touching his forehead. “I’m fine, Hank. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m under strict orders to go into stasis,” he teased.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Hank muttered. “Fine. Wake me if anything changes, okay?”</p><p>“Got it,” Connor chirped. “Goodnight Hank.”</p><p>“Night,” Hank returned, watching as Connor closed his eyes, his LED shifting to a gently pulsing blue. Asleep, just like that. Hank couldn't help but feel jealous.</p><p>Sumo took a deep breath, settling in on top of them.</p><p>Hank wouldn’t be able to go to sleep that night, still paranoid over Connor’s sudden and unexpected fever from the day before. However, he didn’t dare get up, acting as watchman and monitoring Connor’s LED intently.</p><p>Even though he wasn't conscious, Connor never let go of his hand.</p><p>Peace returned to the Anderson household.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I NEEDED SOME FLUFF OKAY</p><p>I hope you guys like this one! It's not really related to the other two fics in the "Sick Days" series, but it kind of had the same premise so I grouped them together. </p><p>and yes im way behind on Promptober but I will finish it even if it kills me<br/>(and no, I haven't forgotten about Berceuse 👀)</p><p>For those keeping up with my Promptober stuff! Expect the part two of the motor ball AU next, and then probably the Big-Bro!Gavin fic I've been working on 👀 This isn't the official order, but those are the stories that are closest to being done, so that's probably how it's gonna go. I hope you guys are liking what I'm putting out!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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